A Forbidden Love
by Vegetas1Love
Summary: rated just in case. Drama ensues when Harry and Hermione's son falls head over heels in love with the daughter of none other than Draco and Pansy Parkinson.
1. They Meet

"Mom! Dad! Where's my wand?" Timothy screamed, running down the stairs.  
"Tim, it's on the coffee table!" his mother yelled up to him as his father put a quick spell on the car to make the trunk wider. He stuffed Tim's trunk into it and they got into the car. They drove for about thirty minutes. Timothy was eleven. It was his first year at Hogwarts.  
  
When they arrived at King's Cross they headed for the barrier. They hadn't seen Ron since Timothy was five, and Ginny since he was born. They talked, but they didn't see each other much. It was a shame too; they had always been so close in school. They ran through the barrier to see the Hogwarts Express waiting.  
"Wow, Mom, you told me about it, but never in so much...detail."  
"Yeah, it's hard to explain really."  
"Well, go on, get a good seat before they're all taken." His father, Harry Potter, said as he hugged him goodbye. Then Hermione stepped up.  
"Oh! Does he have to go?" She said and squeezed her son tightly.  
"Yes Hermione. He has to get an education."  
"Oooh! Alright! Bye Timothy! I love you!" She said as she planted a kiss on his cheek.  
"Mom! Come on! Not here!"  
"Sorry. Bye, write me!" He waved goodbye one last time and got on the train.  
  
He went straight to the back. There was a stall with only one girl in it. She had striking blonde hair, and silver eyes, but it was her smile that made the room sparkle.  
"May I sit down?" He asked politely.  
"Sure." He put his things away and sat beside her. He extended his hand.  
"My name is Timothy Potter, what's yours?" She reluctantly took his hand and replied,  
"Samara Malfoy." The name seemed somewhat familiar to Timothy, but he just shook it off.  
"Well, most people call me Tim. Do you have a nickname?"  
"Yeah, people usually either call me Sam, Sammy, or 'Mara. More the other two, not many call me 'Mara anymore."  
"Then 'Mara it is." He said with a smile. They told each other about their lives for a few hours, when the compartment door opened. It was a lady with a cart of snacks.  
"Anything for you m'dears?"  
"No ma'am."  
"Well, with that I think it's about time you two got changed. There's another cart of girls across the hall for you." She said pointing towards Samara.  
"Thank you very much ma'am." She got up and pulled out some robes, then walked across the hall. Timothy changed as quickly as possible. About ten minutes later she came back. "Hi again."  
  
They talked for another hour, and Samara yawned.  
"Hey, would you mind if I laid my head in your lap?" Timothy shook his head.  
"No, not at all. I can tell you're tired." She fell asleep in about ten minutes, and so did Timothy. When the train stopped he woke up.  
"Hey, 'Mara, wake up, the train stopped."  
"Oh, great. It's about time." 


	2. The Threat Of A Name

"First years this way! First years!" A gruffy voice yelled from the riverside. "First years, pair up into fours and get in a boat." Timothy and Samara paired up with two girls that had been in the room she changed in. They rode the boat to the castle's front doors and walked up to see a young man standing and waiting for them.  
"Hello, I am Professor and Deputy Headmaster Dixon. When you enter the Great Hall you will group together in front of the front table and wait to be sorted into your respectful house. They are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. Now let's continue into the Great Hall." Timothy and Samara looked at each other and shrugged. Many names were called, and around the middle Samara was called.  
"Samara Malfoy." She stepped up and sat on a giant stool. Professor Dixon placed an old hat that they called the Sorting Hat on her head.  
"SLYTHERIN!" It screamed out before it really had a chance to sit. She jumped up and walked over to the Slytherin table. About ten minutes later Timothy was called.  
"Timothy Potter." Everyone at the Head Table looked down at him. He didn't know why, but just shrugged it off. He put on the hat.  
"Hmm, where to put you, where to put you, I know, like your parents, GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted out. He walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat in an empty space. The boy next to him looked oddly familiar, but he couldn't figure out why.  
"Timothy? Timothy Potter? Is it really you?"  
"Yes, and you are?"  
"Derrick Weasley."  
"Oh, Ron Weasley's son? Our parents are like best friends!"  
"Yeah, but we haven't spoken since we were, what, five?"  
"Yeah, hey, I really wish that one girl had been in here, instead of Slytherin."  
"Who?"  
"Samara Malfoy."  
"A Malfoy, in Gryffindor, that'll be the day."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well, my dad told me that not one single person in Slytherin became a good witch or wizard. Also, he was always talking about this guy that he and your parents hated in school, Draco Malfoy. So don't go messing around with people like her. She's bad news."  
"That's were I heard that name! But, she's different! On the train, we talked, and she slept in my lap, and we're friends! She's different! I know she is!"  
"Don't let your parents hear you say you're friends with a Malfoy, they'll go ballistic."  
"Well, I don't care. I'm her friend, and a name or house can't change that."  
  
A/N- so, should I continue? Please review, and please let me know. 


	3. The Secret Meeting

That night in the Gryffindor common room after everyone else left Timothy stayed downstairs. He sat by the window and watched the passing animals running back and forth from the Forbidden Forest. Then he saw someone sitting on the ground with their knees curled to their chest. Looking closer he realized that it was Samara. He ran up to his room and opened his trunk. He pulled out a small silvery cloak and remembered what he was told when his father gave it to him.  
"Son, your mom would kill me if she knew I gave you this, but I think you'll need it as much as I did when I was your age, just hopefully not for the same reasons. It's an invisibility cloak. But please, use this wisely. Don't take advantage of it." He pulled it on and walked to the common room.  
  
"Here I go." He said to himself as he pushed through the painting of the Fat Lady. "Well! I say! Do you know what time it is? Waking me up in the middle of the night like this!" She said, but stopped when she didn't see anyone there. He went out to where Samara was sitting. He tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped up.  
"Whose there?"  
"Chill out, 'Mara, it's me, Timothy." He said taking off the cloak.  
"Oh, God, you scared me."  
"Sorry."  
"That's a pretty cool cloak, where'd you get it?"  
"My dad, but he said Mom would freak if she knew, so I have to keep it a secret, I just saw you out the common room window, and I thought, well."  
"That's cool, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."  
"Great. That's a relief. Hey I was talking to my father's best friend's son, he's my friend too, and he said your father and our parents are like, total enemies. Is that true?"  
"Yeah, he talks about them all the time, but I don't care. I still want to be your friend."  
"Yeah, me too." They talked for a few hours, but realized they had to go back. He walked her under the cloak to her common room door, but then walked back to his.  
"Darolus Fidgitis." He whispered to the Fat Lady.  
"Ugh! What's the big idea? It's three in the morning!" she said as she swung forward. He walked upstairs and went to bed, only able to think of Samara. 


End file.
